Lessons from a kid, a cop and a cold winter's day

There are days that are classic examples of Chicago winter.

We all know them: cold, damp, windy, overcast. The sort of days we'll do almost anything to avoid going out in.

And when we do have to brave the elements, we pile on all the sweaters, coats, hats, gloves and scarves we can find and hunker down like turtles in their shells.

We rush to our cars and shiver uncontrollably until they warm up; you can bet we won't stop for anything we can't get through a drive-up window.

It was one of those mornings. I was heading north on a busy surface street; six lanes of packed traffic crawling along well below the limit.

She was standing by the side of road. Heading to school, I thought. She was struggling with a crammed book bag, shivering in one of those regulation skirts that left her thin legs exposed, wearing a too-light coat without hat or gloves.

She couldn't have been more than 10 or 11. What was she doing trying to cross the road here? And who sent her out dressed like that?

A car pulled over. A cop climbed out. He was one of those men who looks like a cop no matter what he wears or where he is: big, lumbering, with a perpetual tiredness in his eyes, on his face, in his walk.

He pulled himself down into his own lightweight jacket. He wasn't dressed any warmer than she was. You could almost see him trying to hide from the cold, turning up his collar to protect his hatless head, shoving his gloveless hands deep into his pockets.

He didn't say anything. Neither did she. He just walked out into the traffic, pulled himself up out of his coat, and held out his arms to part the sea of traffic.

She walked across, head down, not looking either right or left, simply intent on making it to the other side and the warmth she would find somewhere over there.

Assured of her safety, he put his arms down, crawled back down inside his coat, and shuffled back to his squad car. He drove off slowly, like a man either at the end of his shift or simply at the end of his strength.

I don't know about anyone else who witnessed this little drama, but it made an impression on me. I found myself turning off the stories of war and recession that dominated that day's radio news.

What I had seen would not make it on the 5 o'clock news. It wouldn't get even a cursory write up in the local paper. But didn't it say just as much about human nature as all the bad news I had been listening to?

Isn't it amazing, even miraculous, that with all the struggles in life, we can still find within us the will and energy to reach out and care for each other. We often pay a price for this caring, and just as often receive little if any reward, but we care nonetheless.

A kid and a cop in the cold. An encounter probably of little consequence, but perhaps of great meaning.